The tale of Gorowyn
by Gorowyn
Summary: Hello, soft skin. My name is Gorowyn, and I am the heir to the original Gorowyn, champion of the perfect ones. Sit down, and I will tell you the story of our creation.


The sun sets over the coast of the Timorous Deep, casting its brilliant glow, illuminating the even more brilliant city of Gorowyn. Home of the Sarnaks, the most perfect race in all of Norrath. Wrested from the talons of the wretched Aviaks. It's power has no equal. And one day it will be the seat of a continent-spanning empire.

Oh, hello there small one. Tread carefully here. Your kind are welcomed in Gorowyn, however, if you cause any trouble, you will find it most unpleasant.

Who am I? Impudent wretch, do you not know a great warrior when you see one? I am known as Gorowyn, and I am heir to the greatest warrior in Sarnak history, the very first of the perfect ones, the champion known as Gorowyn. From him, I draw my name, as I shall one day be the conqueror of Norrath.

Who is the champion Gorowyn? What the elders say really is true; the inferior beings of Norrath truly are ignorant. If you really wish to know, then sit down, for it is a long story. It began long, long ago, during the creation of Norrath….

When the gods first came together to make the races of Norrath, they organized rows of many colored round stones before them. They divided these stones up, and when one of the gods finished molding a new race, they would place the stones near the top of the head, giving the new race sight, and life. In this way each of the races were made and placed upon the earth.

Then, Cazic-Thule set to work creating the ultimate race, stronger, faster, and more intelligent than any race ever before. "I have created the perfect race!" He would boast to the other gods. He locked himself away, perfecting the Iksar, whittling the forms until only the best of everything remained. And, eventually, after many failed models, the Iksar were prepared to claim life. However, when Cazic-Thule went looking for the creation stones of the Iksar, one of them was missing.

Cazic-Thule was furious. He tore through the plane of fear looking for it, ripping apart plants, tearing buildings apart brick by brick, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. Eventually, he was forced to accept that the stone was lost. Little did he know that the stone had fallen, all the way down to Kunark.

Cazic-Thule was furious, but he grudgingly completed the process of creating the Iksar. He had invested far too much in these creatures to simply let them go. He took the remaining stone intended for Iksar and split it in two, creating a finished, but imperfect, race. By virtue of Cazic-Thule's brilliant design the Iksar were still a formidable people, but they were not what he had set out to accomplish, and for that, he would never forgive them.

Centuries later, the imperfect Iksar set about to create a slave race; these slaves would come to be known as the Sarnak. Blending their own life with that of the dragon, they inadvertently created something greater than themselves, and in time, these children would come to betray and overthrow them. However, these Sarnak were still imperfect beings, as they were the progeny of Cazic-Thule's blundered creation, and spent many years in slavery. Though they may have been greater than the Iksar, they were still not the champions Cazic-Thule had foreseen.

However, just as Cazic-Thule's creations, the Iksar, set out to create beings greater than themselves, so did the Imperfect Sarnak. It was just their luck that they stumbled upon the long-lost stone of Cazic-Thule. They knew not what it was, but they did know that it was exceptionally powerful. So they set about creating a slave race of their own, unaware of the fact that with this power, the new creations would be able to cast off their rule even easier than they had cast off the Iksar rule.

And so it was that a new race was created, even more perfect than the Iksar or the imperfect Sarnak. Though they were far from Cazic-Thule's original blend, especially with the blood of Dragons in the mix, they were still great. The Sarnak, realizing that they had found perfection, they destroyed the original batch, sensing their ability to rise up and overthrow them. The Sarnak, had they been wise, would have given up on it right then and there. However, they believed that with much manipulation they could raise a second group that would do their bidding. They were wrong.

A hero, known only as Gorowyn, from whom I get my name, led the perfect ones in a revolt against the Sarnak. Sadly, all were destroyed in this first attempt, and the world lost the perfect ones for a time. The original Sarnak, recognizing that they had lost the right to call themselves Sarnak, began calling themselves Di'zok. Eventually, the Spiroc, rooting about in the ruins of Di'zok and Iksar structures, found the plans for the Sarnak, and decided to make themselves a slave race, to use as brute labor. However, they made the same mistake that the imperfect Iksar and Di'zok made. The Sarnak hurled the Spiroc out of the volcano, and made it their home.

At first, the Sarnak knew nothing of where they came from. In time, however, we learned of our hero, Gorowyn, who had cast off the chains of our creator captors. And we learned of the magic that made us superior to all other race. We came to know of ourselves as the chosen of Norrath. After all, had we not killed our own gods, our own creators?

Knowing that we had nothing to fear from the lesser denizens of Norrath, we raised a city and established our presence on the world that would be ours one day. We named it Gorowyn; in honor of he who had shown us our destiny and led us to cast off the reigns of imperfect beings. None can challenge us, for we are Sarnak, the final embodiment of Cazic-Thule's perfect design, and finally we have life he wished to give us so long ago. We developed the code of honor, and in time, we began to wage war against the spiroc, and we have nearly driven them off the islands of Timorous deep completely. Once the islands are ours, we will turn our sights upon Kunark, and we will bring down both the Di'zok and the wretched Sathirians, thus eliminating the last of our imperfect lineage. And once Kunark falls, the rest of Norrath can't help but follow.

This is the heir of Gorowyn's promise to you, imperfect one. Now that the power of knowledge has at last been granted to you, flee to whichever city you come from. Tell the scholars, tell everyone. Write it in a book. Warn all the races of Norrath to prepare themselves, for the tide of the Sarnak is coming, to purge Norrath once and for all.


End file.
